


Clean Up, Aisle Winchester

by Pineprin137



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belly Rubs, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Cuddling, Domestic Fluff, Emetophilia, Family, Family Fluff, Good Parent Mary Winchester, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Showers, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Stomach Ache, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: What starts out as a messy little interlude quickly turns into a day of attempting to soothe poor Dean's sick tummy...
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

As Dean shuffled down the hallway, he felt a strong twinge in his belly. He rested with his back against the brick wall, one hand on his gut. It took a good minute or so before he managed to push off the wall. 

_ Almost there. Just a little further… _

His stomach gave a warning lurch when he spotted his brother sitting in the library. Sam’s laptop was open with some historical video playing. 

Dean quickly glanced around the room, but he didn’t see Cas or Mary anywhere, thankfully. 

He stumbled over to Sam and crashed onto his knees beside his chair. 

“...Dean?” Sam asked. He was instantly worried when his brother didn’t respond. He gently carded his fingers through Dean’s hair. “Hey, you okay?” 

Dean shook his head, where it rested on Sam’s leg. “Where’s Mom and Cas?” 

Sam frowned before answering. “Uh, Mom went into town to do some shopping. I haven’t seen Cas all morning.” 

Swallowing thickly, Dean nodded. “Good.” He quickly reached for Sam’s belt and undid it. Then, he unbuttoned Sam’s jeans.

“Dean, hey-- what’s going on? What are you…” Dean jerked forward with a gag, and Sam’s pupils dilated. “Are you sure about this, Dean?” 

Dean had to pause to focus on his breathing, but, after a minute, he nodded and resumed his frantic motions. 

Once Dean got his brother’s jeans undone, Sam lifted his hips so he could pull them off. Unwilling to part with his boxers, in case their mother arrived unexpectedly, Sam swatted Dean’s hands away and settled for tucking his waistband under his balls. 

Barely holding on until Sam was ready, a sudden gag sent a gush of stale beer and last night’s taquitos into Dean’s mouth. 

Sam quickly pushed his chair away from the table. 

With Dean now in front of him, Sam reached out to cup his puffed-out cheek. He shivered when he felt the heat through Dean’s skin. 

Dean’s eyes flicked up to Sam’s face to confirm he was ready for what was about to happen. It would be Sam’s last chance to back out or say ‘no’. 

At Sam’s firm nod, Dean rose up onto his knees and leaned over his brother’s exposed lap. 

A painful cramp squeezed his belly--Dean vomited. 

Sam cradled the back of Dean’s head as he coughed and sent another mouthful of puke onto Sam’s dick. Each heave made it jerk and twitch with arousal.

The warm sick pooled between his legs, slowly dripping down over his balls. 

Feeling the next wave build in his gut, Dean gripped Sam’s slimy cock in his loose fist. 

Sam immediately responded. He whimpered and thrusted his hips as Dean jacked him off. When a sudden orgasm came over Sam, he dug his fingers into Dean’s scalp and cried out.

As his dick spurted streams of come, Dean quickly lowered his mouth. He swallowed it all down. 

With a stuttered groan, it came right back up. It landed on Sam’s lap, along with more of his stomach’s contents. 

_ “Ohhh, fuck!”  _ Sam gritted out through clenched teeth. 

His cock gave a weak spasm, forcing out another stream of semen that joined the sticky mess covering his legs. 

Now that his brother had come and was panting through the aftershocks, Dean adopted a more comfortable position on his hands and knees. 

Milky drool landed on the floor as he rubbed a hand over his still-churning belly. 

He only had to push lightly on it to vomit again. 

As it splattered messily onto the wooden floor, he heard the scrape of Sam’s chair pushing back. 

A warm hand joined his on his stomach. 

Dean removed his hand, so he could support himself fully, while Sam kneaded his knuckles into Dean’s gut. 

The harsh gag it elicited echoed throughout the library. However, it only ushered up a small amount of liquid. 

Dean groaned. 

Sam softly shushed him, “I gotcha, brother…” As another cramp moved through Dean’s belly, he pressed the pads of his fingers down.

Dean’s back arched and vomit poured out of him. He barely sucked in a breath before a second painful heave pitched him forward again. 

He would’ve fallen face-first in his own sick if not for Sam’s secure hold on him. 

They stayed like that, Dean down on all fours while Sam awkwardly leaned over him until the older Winchester’s belly was finally empty. 

After helping his exhausted brother into the chair he’d vacated, Sam looked around them and cringed. The floor beside the table was covered with Dean’s puke, it was dripping down Sam’s thighs and drying on his cock, the chair was sticky with it, and Dean looked miserable. 

His shirt was drenched with sweat, and he had puke on his chin, neck, and hands. 

“Alright, brother, let’s get you cleaned up…” Rising from his crouch in front of Dean, he bent over to wrap his arms around his sick brother. 

“How about a nice, warm shower, hm? How does that sound?” Sam murmured, kissing the crown of Dean’shead. 

Dean allowed himself to be manhandled. “Sounds awesome. Lead the way.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, a shower. Then, some snuggles.

Sam was gentle as he moved the washcloth over Dean’s tired body. 

Dean was too tired to help. He simply stood there with his arms looped loosely around Sam while his brother cleaned the sweat and sickness off of him. 

“Hey, no falling asleep,” Sam chuckled when Dean’s head dropped onto his shoulder. 

_“Feel like crap, Sammy,”_ Dean mumbled. He hummed when Sam adjusted the showerhead so the warm spray washed the suds off his back. 

“Must be a bad bug,” Sam said. He slid his hands over Dean’s back to ensure all of the soap got rinsed off. “You seemed okay yesterday.” 

Dean sighed. “I didn’t really get much sleep last night. Then, this morning when I woke up, I felt like shit.”

“Is it just your stomach?” Sam asked, helping Dean out of the shower.  He grabbed a towel to wrap around his brother's waist. 

After wrapping a second towel around his own hips, Sam got one more to gently rub over Dean’s wet head. 

Dean suddenly stiffened in Sam's arms. He placed his hand on Sam’s bare chest, silently asking his brother to still his jerky movements. 

Sam waited while Dean took several measured breaths. 

“You good?” he asked. 

Groaning lowly, Dean shook his head. The nauseous feeling from earlier was back. His stomach swirled angrily. 

He rested his forehead on Sam’s chest and laced his fingers behind Sam’s neck, using Sam's solid weight to ground himself. 

Sam smoothed one large hand over his brother’s spine while Dean fought the renewed nausea. 

He felt it as well as heard it when Dean’s throat worked through several convulsive swallows. 

“Do you need to throw up again?” Sam asked him quietly. 

Dean’s head rolled against Sam’s chest. 

“ _Ngh..."_ Licking his lips, Dean exhaled slowly. "Just- Give me a minute.” 

He straightened up, but his eyes remained closed. 

Sam rested his hands on Dean’s arms and gently rubbed his thumbs over his brother’s damp skin. 

They anxiously waited to see if Dean was going to get sick again. 

With a pained grimace and a dangerously wet cough, Dean broke free of Sam’s hold. He quickly walked over to the first bathroom stall and crouched in front of the toilet.  Retching loudly, he braced his hands on the seat when his back arched. 

Dean gagged again and again, until, _finally_ , a little bit of bile dribbled into the water. 

The cramping in his belly refused to stop, even after it was empty. 

_"_ _Sonofabitch,"_ he groaned, jerking forward to cough dryly over the water.

Sam filled a glass with tap water and brought it over to his brother.  “Here, try this.” 

Dean accepted the glass and took two small sips. 

The tepid water barely made it into his tender stomach. 

When the next cramp hit, Dean closed his eyes and relinquished it into the toilet bowl. 

Sam was a comforting presence at his back while Dean repeated the process three more times. 

Eventually, Dean's stomach settled for the brothers to leave the stall. 

Sam guided Dean down the hall to Dean's bedroom. 

After helping his sick brother into a fresh pair of underwear and a thin tee-shirt, Sam crawled onto the bed behind him. He nestled his chin in the crook of Dean’s neck and gently rubbed Dean's upset stomach until they both fell asleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does cleaning up puke together count as mother-son bonding?

When Mary shoved the heavy iron door open, she expected to hear her boys moving around or bickering, but, instead, she was met with a heavy silence. 

Juggling the sacks of groceries in her arms, she delicately made her way down the stairs and over to the large table. She set the bags down and rubbed her aching arms before she called out her boys’ names. 

“Sam? Dean? Anyone home?” 

Climbing the steps into the library, she froze. Just beyond the table, where she could see Sam’s laptop and an abandoned cup of coffee, the floor was a mess. 

She took a few hesitant steps closer and immediately pressed the back of her hand below her nose. The unmistakably sour smell of sickness permeated the air around the soiled chair and dirty floor. 

One of her boys had been violently ill by the looks of it. 

She’d been heading back to the war room to grab the groceries when she heard a quiet shuffle and turned around. 

Sam paused in the doorway, a soap-filled bucket with a rag draped over the handle in his hand. 

“Sam? Are you alright?” Mary asked, quickly crossing the room to stand in front of him. 

Sam nodded. “Yeah, but Dean’s pretty sick-” he grimaced, “--as you probably figured out already.” 

“Where is he, now?” she asked, taking the bucket from her son and walking over to set it on the table. She grabbed a sponge that had been hidden in the soapy water and knelt on the floor. 

Sam wet the rag and joined her on his hands and knees. “He’s in his room. It, uh, took a lot out of him. He was pretty exhausted.” 

Mary nodded as she wiped the chair off. 

They worked side-by-side, soaking and scrubbing, until the only trace of Dean’s earlier sickness was a lingering odor. It thankfully dissipated after a quick spritz of air freshener. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And, now, a nice, sweet Winchester family moment to bring us home!

Dean woke up the same way he’d fallen asleep, with Sam pressed against his back, and his brother’s hand cradling his sick stomach. 

The only difference was that Sam was no longer wearing a towel. 

At some point, he'd changed into jeans and a long-sleeved plaid shirt. 

After venturing down the hall to go to the bathroom, Dean put on his robe and wandered towards the kitchen. He was hoping he could dig up some crackers to help settle his stomach. 

When he walked in, Mary was standing at the stove. She was humming softly while stirring a pot of what Dean guessed was probably tomato rice soup. 

He greeted her with a mumbled “hey” before sitting down at the table. He rested his chin in his hand, so he could watch while she cooked. 

After a few quiet minutes of Mary cooking and humming and Dean watching her, Mary lowered the heat on the stove and put the lid on the pot. She turned around to face her oldest son. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked him.

Still feeling queasy, Dean yawned. “Been better,” he admitted.

“'Think you’re up to eating something?” Mary smiled and gestured to the pot simmering on the stove. “I made your favorite.” 

Dean gave her a weak smile. “As great as that sounds, I don’t think I’m quite up to that yet.” 

Mary nodded. "How about some toast? It should be mild enough for your stomach.” 

Quickly realizing he wasn't going to make it out of the room without eating _something_ , Dean acquiesced. “Uh, sure. I guess that would be okay.” 

Mary smiled. “One order of plain toast comin’ right up.” 

When Sam entered the kitchen a little while later, Dean nodded to his brother. “Hey, Sammy.” 

“Hey. How are you feeling? I got a little worried when I woke up, and you were gone.” 

“Okay-for the moment.” 

When Sam sat down beside him, Dean squinted at him. “How are you?” 

Mary looked confused by Dean's question as she placed the toasted pieces of bread on a plate. 

Sam, however, simply shrugged. “Nothing yet.” 

Dean snorted. “Let’s hope it stays that way. Cause  _ this _ ?” he said, gesturing to himself. “...sucks ass.” 

Mary brought two plates over to the table, one with plain toast and another with a bowl of tomato rice soup on it. 

“Sam, I made some lunch.” 

Sam nodded as he accepted the plate from her. “Thanks.” 

Mary set the other plate in front of her sick son. 

“Dean, honey, here’s your toast. One slice is completely plain, but the other has a little bit of butter on it.” She gestured to the green can she'd also placed beside his plate. 

“I found that in the fridge, and I thought it might help.” 

“Thanks, mom,” Dean said, popping the tab on the can of ginger ale. He took a careful sip before laying his head on Sam’s shoulder. 

After gazing fondly at her boys for a few minutes, Mary sat down at the table with her own bowl of soup and joined her boys for lunch. 

By the time Mary and Sam had finished eating, Dean had been asleep for at least fifteen minutes. His head was resting on his arms on the tabletop, his soft snores and the occasional gurgle from his unhappy tummy the only sounds in the kitchen.

He’d only eaten about half of the plain toast, but he’d finished the can of ginger ale. 

“Dean... Hey,” Sam whispered, gently smoothing his hand over Dean’s back. 

Dean blinked up at him. “Hm?” 

“Why don’t you go back to bed, dude? I’m sure it’ll be much more comfortable than falling asleep on the kitchen table…” 

“Hm? Oh, right, yeah…” Dean sat up and yawned before getting up. He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go crash.” He turned to Mary. “Thanks for the toast, and, uh, the ginger ale. It helped.” 

Mary smiled at her son. “I’m glad. Oh, and, don’t worry, I made plenty of soup for you to have some later if you want.” 

Although his belly was once again starting to protest, Dean managed a tight smile. “Thanks, mom.” 

Mary caught his hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “Get some rest, honey.” 


End file.
